


Scream Without a Sound

by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Slayer!Clarke, Watcher!Bellamy, for both shows, it's very vague and brief so not sure how to tag it, there is a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold/pseuds/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold
Summary: Clarke Griffin starts off at Arkadia University as a Watcher-less Slayer after the death of her previous one at prom-gone-wrong. It still haunts her, but she gets the chance to start over. And she gets a new Watcher –– the grumpy TA in her Latin class, Bellamy Blake. At first they don’t get along, but they slowly grow close. Even as she feels herself spiraling into herself, he remains her beacon of light and she falls for him despite it all.So when he’s taken one night, she’s willing to do whatever it takes so save him, even if she can’t save herself.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the fic that I'm surprised I hadn't attempted to write before now! BTVS is one of my all-time favorite shows, and Buffy and Clarke are easily two of my favorite characters. Their similarities are striking and with the angst it feels like we'll get this season, as well as pretty much every season lol, I really enjoyed exploring Clarke's feelings towards herself. 
> 
> The first part is primarily told through flashbacks, though it starts out and ends with the current timeline. The second part will then be all of the action, and I should have that up by the end of the week!
> 
> Title is from the “Only” by Sasha Sloan.

“Tell me you’ve got me in, Raven.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help the growl that crept into her voice. But if there was anyone who wouldn’t be annoyed by her tone, it was Raven Reyes. Her best friend merely jerked her head in a quick nod, her fingers flying across the keyboard as the computer’s glowing blue screen illuminated her sharp features.

 

Pushing herself off of the edge of the desk at the sign of confirmation, Clarke’s hands idly brushed against the stake that was strapped to her upper thigh in a black leather holster. She had been fighting the urge to pace while Raven hacked into the mainframe and her self control had barely won –– but the need to kill was still there. It simmered beneath her skin, pulsating within her as the photo in her back pocket burned into her mind.

 

The sound of the door swinging open made her hand completely settle on the stake as she whirled around, her nerves cranked up even higher than normal tonight.

 

“Easy Clarke,” Monty said with a wry grin. “It’s just me.”

 

He walked over, tossing a small bottle at her. She caught it nimbly, bringing it up to her face to examine it. It was made of glass with a small gold cross etched into it.

 

“Harper was able to get you some extra holy water last minute. Since we don’t know how many are going to be in there, it doesn’t hurt to have some back up. We figured you could throw it on the ground if you need any of it to splatter, almost like a detonation,” he explained, sliding into the chair next to Raven. “Damages the vampires, but not the building. And Bob’s your uncle.”

 

Raven let out a scoff that was pointedly ignored by Monty.

 

“I offered that we get garlic bread with our pizza, but apparently breathing on them isn’t enough to do it,” came a voice behind them, Jasper coming into view.

 

“The Scooby Gang’s all here,” muttered Raven, though not ungratefully as she grabbed a piece of the pizza Jasper had brought in with him. Her eyes barely strayed from the screen. 

 

Jasper held up a slice to Clarke but she shook her head. 

 

She was too nauseous to eat. She was pretty sure she hadn’t eaten a single thing since finding the polaroid photo taped to her dorm room door, though Raven and Harper had forced her to drink some water earlier. And in that moment, she was thankful her body was able to run at a higher level than most so that she didn’t have to think about being her strongest. 

 

Raven finally swung around in the chair, stretching out her stiff leg in front of her. 

 

“Camera feeds have been switched, but you should be good either way since it looks like no one is scheduled to come in tonight. I was able to get one angle of the room I think he’s in. You’re going to have go to the second level basement, to your left and down the hall. Should be one of the last rooms to the right. I don’t trust the elevators since we don’t know know what’s been tampered with so you’re going to have to take the stairs.”

 

Clarke listened intently as Raven rattled off the directions. On the surface it wasn’t a complicated building plan. But she normally kept her fights in crypts or in the open air of graveyards, even alleys. She’d never been inside one of these giant corporate buildings and the idea of it made her uneasy. She wasn’t going to be on her home turf this time and she couldn’t afford to let anything go wrong.

 

Once Raven had made her recite back the directions and she’d checked the last of her supplies in the small backpack she had, it was finally time to go.

 

“And you’re sure you don’t want us to go with you?” Monty asked hesitantly.

 

Clarke paused at the door and looked back at all of them. They were looking at her anxiously, almost like she could break at any moment. 

 

“If something––if something goes wrong, I can’t lose you guys too,” she forced out, trying to give them a look of confidence.

 

They nodded as if they all had been fully aware that was going to be what she would say.

 

“I’ve got the security cameras pulled up,” Raven said, gesturing at the screen. “If you need anything, well... we’ve got you from here.”

 

It was as emotional as she would allow herself to be and Clarke knew that, a more grateful smile quirking up her lips. Then with a small wave, she slipped past the door and began to run.

 

The campus was quiet tonight. It was late fall and the leaves had begun to change, criss-crossing over each other as they fell onto the bricks in a disarray of orange and reds. They tore under her boots as she ran. Her mind slipped in and out of focus as she sprinted, her heartbeat thudding in step with her feet. She could still see her friends in her mind watching her cautiously, worried about her. Worried about what she was heading into.

 

She didn’t blame them.

 

She wasn’t supposed to be weak.

 

She was supposed to be unquestioningly strong, resilient in the face of nightmares. 

 

She was supposed to be fine with her friends backing her up because in a pinch since she knew that she’d actually be able to defend them if it came to it. Which it rarely did since they were all more than capable of taking care of themselves, even Raven with her brace. But this wasn’t like patrolling, where Jasper’s antics sometimes actually helped. This wasn’t going to be like when Monty was able to help cast a spell so that the possessed football coach stopped trying to sacrifice the players to an off-brand demon. 

 

This was a rescue mission.

 

And she couldn’t worry about backup when all of her energy would be singularly focused on her mission. Fixing a problem that was her fault because of  _ who she was _ . She’d already lost a Watcher once, and she couldn’t lose one again. 

 

Her mind was clouded with an unbelievable rage. One that he would have no doubt criticized her for, reminding her that her emotions affected her judgement (as if he had any room to talk). That they hadn’t spent hours of her meditating for her to then make rash decisions.

 

But this was personal.

 

_ He was personal _ .

 

Lexa had always told her that love made her weak. And tonight was proving that, them finding her weakness to draw her out. But even in her nauseated state, her hands clammy, Clarke had actually never felt so strong. The rage that coursed through her propelled her forward and consumed her with a strength that she hadn’t ever acted on. 

 

It felt like succumbing to the parts of her that kept her up at night. 

 

But it would be worth it if she saved him. She’d sacrifice what humanity was left in her if it meant knowing that he would be okay.

 

It was almost to the year and a half mark since the death of her first Watcher and she had no intention of losing another. 

 

Especially when it was Bellamy Blake.  
  


* * *

 

Senior year of high school had ended with Clarke barely passing her classes and also saving the majority of her school from a swarm of vampires who attacked the school on prom night.

 

She’d gone with her best friends at the time, Monroe and Fox. It was strange to look back at that time and think about what friendship had meant to her. What even her own friendship had meant to them. She had no doubt that they’d liked her but still found her odd. The whole school had. She was too serious, too bossy. She had the most rigid moral compass of anyone there and owned her space as much as a teenage girl could. 

 

But then she’d turned sixteen and a man, Marcus Kane, had showed up at her lacrosse practice and informed her about her duties as the Chosen One. 

 

The Slayer.

 

Her friendships with most never recovered; Monroe and Fox hanging on to her but just barely. She had lucked out that they were low maintenance friends really. They didn’t question why she was starting to be late to school or falling asleep in classes (it wasn’t her fault that vampires preferred the night). They didn’t notice her increased strength as she came into her role as the Slayer, her team and coaches just chalking it up to late hormones and extra hours in the gym.

 

Her mom had only noticed the changes when she was called in to discuss Clarke’s failing grades and skipped classes with the principal.

 

In the end it had taken a miracle by the same creator as these monsters and some sleepless nights to pull off the grades she needed to graduate. Which had felt silly, she hadn’t been able to figure out a purpose for it all. Why bother with classes when you’re expected to be a killing machine? But Kane encouraged her to even try applying to colleges just in case, eventually getting accepted into a smaller university on the East Coast. That had been the ticket to get her mom to agree to letting her go to prom as a way to celebrate. 

 

She couldn’t stomach the idea of what would have happened if she had never gone.

 

On one hand, Kane would still be alive. 

 

_ On the other, even more of her classmates wouldn’t be. _

 

It had been able too much to handle, trapping herself in her bathroom and scrubbing at the blood that had splattered on the navy blue dress she had worn. She’d scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. Replays of her classmates shouting and scrambling out of the way flashing through her mind. Of Kane, slumped against the wall and his hand shakingly trying to apply pressure to his wound even though in the end his skin barely ghosted the fabric of his shirt. 

 

The glassy-eyed smile he had given her before telling her how proud of her he was. 

 

She’d ripped the seams of the dress and screamed into layers of tulle. 

 

The summer had dragged on and now there didn’t have to be any pretense about still having friends. Or even a life. The chaos of high school had ended in a literal bloodbath and even the most school-spirited students had rushed through graduation to put an end to that chapter of their lives. 

 

Her mom had offered countless times for her to live at home and go to college locally. Worry lines were etched into her face as she fretted about her only daughter. 

 

Clarke was pretty sure the worry was useless.

 

She’d patrolled the Polis cemeteries so often she had finally come to the realization there was nothing left for her to kill. 

 

That didn’t stop her from doing her nightly patrolling though, stake in hand and hair tied up. 

 

Look around headstones for signs of shifting dirt? Check.

 

Peek inside the mausoleums for overturned tombs? Check. 

 

Cross off the days until the next full moon? Check.

 

The one thing she didn’t know about was if the Council would send her a new Watcher. Was she supposed to report that kind of thing? And if so, how? That even though she was newly eighteen, she had failed to protect the man sworn to train her? Then again they’d been able to find her without her trying, so she let it go. And they seemed to let her go too and she carried on with her solo patrols. She became a ghost, not dissimilar to the ones that would sometimes appear around Polis. Maybe the saw themselves in her since they always kept their distance from her. Ghosts didn’t have a reason to be scared of the Slayer, so she chalked it up to pity. Which was depressing in its own right. She didn’t need ghosts feeling sorry for her.

 

And then it was time for college. 

 

Her mom, tight-lipped with concern, had helped her pack up the few belongings she felt like bringing with her and then helped drive her to Arkadia, North Carolina. Clarke felt like she left a part of herself back in Polis. The part that knew how to smile without having to look around her shoulder for demons. The part that didn’t know what it was like to have to stake an old classmate who had been turned, even though she knew that the person she had known was no longer really there. 

 

Fighting the undead had its own way of making you feel dead too. 

 

Everything had seemed normal at first once she was at Arkadia University. The underworld seemed fine with leaving her alone for a little while and her nightly patrols turned into just wandering around campus. She recited the names of her lost classmates names over and over again as a mantra, rubbing her face in frustration as they faded from memory. 

 

Here though she had a harder time hiding her patrols than she did in high school. Now she had a roommate, an athletic girl named Raven who had started off as a mechanical engineering major but was considering switching to aerospace instead. It all made Clarke’s head spin but otherwise she liked her no-nonsense roommate. She just wish she didn’t have to lie to her about why she left their place nearly every night. She was pretty positive Raven didn’t believe her either, no matter what excuse she had, but she never commented on it.

 

In an effort to live up to what Kane had wanted for her, his last words branded into her very soul, she did her best to fill her schedule with useful classes and actually push herself. She’d been the top of her class at one point, it shouldn’t be too hard to do that again. If everyone else in college was able to balance their personal lives and academic careers, surely she could as well. She was even thankful for her mom’s job as a surgeon so that she didn’t have to work a part time job, something that hadn’t even occurred to her until she met other dark-circle eyed classmates. The fast food industry seemed nearly as bad as being a Slayer at times.

 

But it was when she had her first Latin class that things shifted once again.

 

It was on a Tuesday afternoon and she was running late from her kickboxing class at the campus gym, sprinting into the classroom just before it started. 

 

She definitely didn’t fit into the group of students who normally took this class, but she was going to be damned if she didn’t get a grasp on the language that seemed to heavily influence the history of the beings she fought.

 

“You must be Clarke Griffin,” announced the professor, the rest of the small class’ eyes burning into the back of her neck.

 

“Guilty,” she mumbled, sliding into an open seat in the front row. She’d have preferred to hide in the back, but she was too late to do so.

 

That would have been the end of it except she glanced up and noticed the TA sitting in the front corner, his eyes locked on her. 

 

It wasn’t condemning for her being late, nor did appear to be driven by any sort of attraction like the gross senior frat guys she had to dodge at the gym. It was almost in recognition and he was staring so intently at her that she almost got out of her seat to get up and confront him about what his deal was. But there wasn’t time for that as the professor, a hunched-over woman with fly-away red hair frizzing around her face, had wrapped up roll call and launched into the syllabus for the semester. She did her best to focus on the professor and the content that they’d be studying, but her gaze had drifted over to the TA more times than she’d like to admit. Beyond the staring, she’d also picked up on how ridiculously handsome he was. That certainly didn’t help anything.

 

The class moved by quickly enough but she had only needed to exchange a brief glance with the TA to know that she should wait for him outside. It was scary how without a word they’d already managed to communicate with each other, but Clarke squashed those thoughts back down. Shifting her weight, Clarke had waited impatiently until she saw curly hair appear from the door frame. He’d been introduced as Bellamy Blake to the class and she was about to snap his name at him––only he beat her to getting the first word in.

 

“I’m your new Watcher, Clarke,” he said grimly.

 

Anything else she had been planning to say died in her mouth.

 

How she had gone the entire summer without a Watcher confounded him and he supposedly had railed against the Council about it. And then he’d railed at them again when it turned out the two of them could barely stand to be in the same room with each other. They refused to do anything about it though and insisted they were a great pair for each other.

 

With Bellamy being a graduate student, it had been easy to figure out a schedule for the two of them to meet. They both had access to the gym and to the library, which is where consequently their first two arguments were.

 

At the gym, Bellamy had asked to see how her sparring was so far. There had been an air of amusement to how he approached it and she had practically snarled at him in response. Sure, her baggy Polis High t-shirt and sweatpants hid the physical transformation she had undergone since stepping into being a Slayer, that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. She’d been startled by how well he had held his own though. Turned out he wasn’t just a nerdy Watcher to look after her, his muscles flexing and glistening at each block. They’d finished, chests heaving and sweat dripping, before he let out a laugh.

 

“Way too stiff there, Princess.”

 

Clarke furiously brushed her hair out of her face from where it had come loose from her ponytail, sputtering in indignation. 

 

“Oh fuck off,” she growled, causing a couple sorority girls to look up at them cautiously. “I’m an excellent fighter and I don’t need some stuffy Watch–” 

 

His glare at the almost-slip made her snap her jaw shut before anyone could hear what she had said. 

 

“You’re not bad,” he emphasized (too condescendingly for her taste). “I just said you’re too stiff. You need to loosen up, relax into your body while you fight.”

 

The mature response would have been to listen to what he said and carried on. But instead Clarke shoved him and stormed off to grab her duffle bag before racing back to her dorm. Fuck Bellamy for thinking he knew better than her. That he could step into the shoes of Kane and tell her what to do and how to do it. She was a fighter and she always had been. She didn’t need him.

 

Her silent treatment to him lasted approximately one day until her next Latin class. 

 

She had tentatively hung back after class when it was obvious he had wanted to talk with her, and he had subsequently he informed her that a type of Germanic creature from ancient legends was planning a ritual that weekend. And then he handed her a textbook and told her to meet him at the library that evening to go over their plan.

 

They managed to yell at each other for an hour in one of the rooms at the library until they were kicked out and forced to study at his apartment just off campus. 

 

Neither of them apologized to each other on either occasion, but they didn’t need to.

 

Their arguments didn’t necessarily lessen until a little while later, but they managed to make it work better than Clarke could have expected. They both struggled to admit the other was right about how they should approach things. And maybe they were both a little right  _ and _ wrong. Somehow they became a team though.

 

As her freshman year went on, Clarke somehow found a balance between her school life and her Slayer life. She and her roommate were quickly becoming friends and she had even met some other kids in her classes that she enjoyed talking to. In college, people didn’t seem to mind her seriousness. The flexibility in classes made it easier for her to get her homework done in times for patrols too. Especially since the supernatural activity was beginning to pick up the pace. Occasionally Bellamy would join her. Some nights were slow and he’d help her study for tests (one time he had her shout out answers while she pummeled a particularly handsy zombie, fists flying in time to her answers). 

 

Other times it was vampire after vampire after vampire. 

 

Those nights began to scare her.

 

Not for herself. She’d given up worrying about her own life after she staked her first vampire and watched him disintegrate in front of her, inches from biting her neck.

 

But whenever she saw Bellamy and a vampire, she saw Kane. Her old Watcher fighting back but being overpowered. His soft final words to her before slipping away from her forever. 

 

She knew Bellamy was able to handle himself, especially with her leading the charge to cover his weaker spots. But that didn’t stop the compounding fear that rattled her ribcage and made her heart ache. If she did one thing wrong, if she didn’t cover him, he would be gone. Her moves became more reckless. It was an unspoken truth that she would do anything to protect him.

 

It took until the end of her freshman year to realize it wasn’t just because he was her Watcher. 

 

It had happened somewhere between sparring at the gym. During the long nights in and around campus as they slipped into sharing their lives with each other, one small secret at a time. It was when his frustration with her intense regard for rules led to them shouting at each other in his apartment over books of ancient lore. It had sparked as their hands brushed when he handed her knives to practice throwing, when he’d barely touch her shoulder to pull her out of deep meditation. It had smacked her in the face when she had nearly been impaled by an overly aggressive vampire and it had been Bellamy to stake it instead, holding her tightly as she sobbed from feeling fear for the first time in a long time. 

 

Bellamy made her feel like she alive. That was she more than just a killer. He centered her, not just as a Watcher, but as a person.

 

She loved him. 

 

They had a dance with each other though. As one would get closer, the other would pull back. Sometimes it was subconscious, like when Bellamy briefly dated Gina and Clarke found herself in more control over her emotions than she even realized. She was broken inside, but she wasn’t a homewrecker. When she had the intense two month-long relationship with Lexa, the girl in ROTC she literally ran into at the gym, Bellamy was the utmost example of professionalism. That hadn’t stopped Lexa from accusing her of caring about him more than anyone else, which hadn’t been the easiest conversation to have since she couldn’t really tell her about the whole destined Vampire Slayer and sworn Watcher to guide her thing. That relationship had crashed and burned with an intensity Clarke hadn’t known she still had in her, which only made her more wary of the feelings that she held for Bellamy.

 

But then he’d help position her in a better fighting stance, the heat of his hand lingering on her skin far longer than his actual touch had. She’d almost been asleep once at his place on his oversized couch, exhausted after a grueling evening, when she’d felt his hand gently brush some of her hair behind her ear.

 

So she let herself believe that he loved her too, at least in his own way. 

 

Which would have to be enough for the main reason that she told herself: that Slayers and Watchers weren’t supposed to be together. Entirely logical and easy for her to wrap her brain around.

 

The other reason, the one that stung too deeply as she would watch him read and ruffle his hair as he focused or rub his new beard, was that she was too far gone for him.

 

She was the Slayer, the Commander of Death between the living and the undead. The broken pieces of her soul had jagged edges that would tear away at him and ruin him. There were nights she was convinced she could smell the stench of death on her and was amazed that people could be around her. Her future was nearly nonexistent and what kind of offering was that to someone? And it felt even crueler to do it to the person tasked to guide her through all of this, who would inevitably watch her demise if history told her anything. 

 

So with as much strength as she could muster, Clarke let herself be happy with the small touches and extended glances and buried her feelings deep within her.  
  


* * *

 

Sophomore year had brought her more of the same. More demons (they finally figured out that the university was sitting on top of a Hellmouth which explained  _ a lot _ ), more sleepless nights wondering when she was going to feel completely human again. 

 

More nights pretending she wasn’t completely in love with Bellamy. 

 

The biggest distraction of it all was when an asshole demon with a thirst for vengeance against Clarke had decided to make his presence known by arriving to her dorm room. She and Raven had decided to live together again and it was her presence that greeted Paxton McCreary at the door. She had held her own impressively for a human, but had nearly lost the use of her leg from torture by the time Clarke had arrived back from dinner. The two girls had worked together seamlessly without even a word exchanged between them and Clarke was able to finally banish McCreary back to the depths of Hell.

 

Which had then left her with having to explain all of it to Raven as she called Bellamy to help take them to a hospital to get Raven’s leg checked.

 

The whole time that Raven was getting examined, Bellamy and Clarke had engaged in a heated but hushed argument about how to handle someone knowing the truth. But they didn’t have much of an option and at Raven’s immediate insistence, they’d caved in to letting her help out. So from that night on, she was their tech expert and helped change the game for them. 

 

_ Clarke broke her record for vampires slayed after she found out that Bellamy and Raven slept together, even though they insisted it was a one time thing at separate times to her. _

 

The arrival of Monty and Jasper into their gang was entirely accidental as well, but equally beneficial. 

 

Breaking curses wasn’t something Slayers were required to be good at, but being on a Hellmouth certainly made Clarke run into a lot more of them than she would have liked. So one afternoon she’d tried to casually go into the town of Arkadia’s lone magic shop to see if she could pick any supplies up. Her attempt at blending it hadn’t gone well when one of the employee’s there had immediately recognized her from class.

 

Monty Green, with his swooping black hair and mischievous nature, didn’t immediately scream witchcraft to her but it ended up suiting him perfectly. His practice was heavily focused on nature, though according to him he sometimes dabbled in being “a technopagan.” His girlfriend, an equally gentle but fierce girl named Harper, eagerly helped teach Clarke all they could about their practice. She’d attempted to dodge some of their questions, but then Monty’s best friend Jasper had come racing into the shop with a couple of newly-turned vampires hot on his heels and secrecy went out the window. 

 

Bellamy finally put his foot down and said that their group couldn’t get any larger than this. Mainly because he didn’t know how many more people he could fit into his tiny apartment, let alone how many more could keep a secret. 

 

And that was how life had continued on for the majority of their fall semester. Some weekends Clarke found herself being able to go out to a couple parties and others she was chasing after supernatural beings. Not always ideal, but she was beginning to shed the self-loathing that had cloaked her for so long.

 

October then came and brought with it a colder autumn than last year. Fall on the east coast was Clarke’s favorite season, finding it easier to allow her moodier feelings to lift as she’d cuddle up in a flannel and blanket as the mist rose above the campus. This year, with more than a year separating the disaster of her senior year of high school, she had felt anxious to make up for the darkness. After a grueling night of training, Bellamy had even agreed to go with her the next day to a pumpkin patch so they could carve pumpkins that weekend. He was adamant about Clarke doing what she could to retain her humanity (her words, he called it having a life). 

 

He’d tried to hide his smile at her begging, but he had quickly caved to her request.

 

The whole way back, Clarke had felt like she was floating on a cloud. Gently holding the cross necklace she wore every day, she’d slowly made her way back to campus and did her best to not let herself think of it as a date. Just a Slayer and her Watcher –– scratch that, just two friends enjoying the fall festivities. She knew that Halloween would bring its own shenanigans that came with the spooky holiday, so she wanted to embrace the season while she could and this seemed like the perfect way. She’d even popped into the campus bakery on her way back, grabbing some late night cookies and pumpkin-flavored drinks to share with Raven. Her best friend had been nudging her to admit her feelings towards Bellamy and maybe tonight she could finally admit it to both of them. Time passed in its own way, racing forward and dragging its feet, but maybe she was going to actually be able to rebuild herself into the Clarke Griffin she knew she could be. 

 

However, all of her plans for that Friday night fell away with her good mood once she returned to her dorm. Fumbling for her keys while balancing her purchases, she’d almost missed the polaroid photo taped to the door.

 

But when she finally did, everything screeched to a halt.

 

It was like being doused in freezing cold water. Her veins snapped to an iciness that coursed through her, her breathing shallow and she didn’t even realize that she had dropped all of the coffee and bag of cookies. Her limbs were rubber and she faintly remembered wondering if this was what it was like right before you passed out.

 

She never found out though, every fiber of her being unable to look away from the photo on the door. Her fingers had shakingly torn it off the door, pulling it up closer to her face.

 

It was slightly blurry, the bright flash of light from the camera washing out the colors in it and creating a murky blackness behind the subject matter.

 

She began to hyperventilate as she took in Bellamy’s contorted features, his expression in the middle of yelling at his captor. The flash illuminated the blood pouring down the side of his face, the shininess of the duct tape holding him to the chair.

 

He was still in the dark blue shirt she had left him in earlier this evening. 

 

Clarke had barely noticed Raven yanking the door open, a barrage of questions washing over Clarke as Raven tried to figure out why she was just standing there wordlessly in shock.

 

_ He was in that evening’s outfit. _

 

She wasn’t sure how long she had taken to get home that night, but it had been enough for him to have been taken. To be kidnapped and tortured.

 

Bile built up in her throat but she couldn’t look away, memorizing his expression. Letting the pain he was feeling feed into her as if she could somehow take it from him through the flimsy material in her hand. 

 

Raven’s voice echoed through her mind and she finally dragged her gaze towards her, her friend’s expression pinched in concern as she gently pulled the photo from Clarke’s hand.

 

“Wait, is this Bellamy? Who’s E? Why does it say ‘meet you at A.L.I.E.’s’ Clarke?”   
  


When she was scared, Raven never showed it. Her brain went into overdrive and she pieced together information, never letting it show how much she was effected. So naturally she was asking questions, pulling herself together so that they could move forward. The questions tumbled out one after another as she took in each detail of the photograph. The wounds on Bellamy. The scratchy words scribbled beneath it in messy penmanship. All small puzzle pieces of who had taken him from her.

 

When Clarke tried to immediately take off, her brain in a fog of anger, Raven had pulled her back and repeated the questions louder. The pressure of her fingers in Clarke’s skin had helped awaken her and she left the stupor she had been in and went into Slayer mode. 

 

They’d then assembled as their group, dubbed the Scooby Gang by Jasper the other month, and met up in the library. Blessedly vacant on a Friday evening, they were able to snag on of the main computer rooms on the second level to set up shop. Each of them doing what they were best at to help make it as easy as possible for Clarke to get in and save Bellamy.

 

Which left her to do what she did best: slaying vampires.

 

Learning how to process how strongly she was capable of feeling was an entirely different issue. And one that she felt she was woefully inadequate to handle. But all she knew was that Bellamy was in danger  _ because of her _ . She was the Slayer and had brought this on him. It had become obvious to her enemies that he was her weakness and it was being used against her. All because she loved him.

 

So as she ran into the night, her arms pumping to help propel her forward as her combat boots slammed against cement, she used every ounce of energy she had to imagine herself saving Bellamy. 

 

She didn’t have any other options tonight, and she would die trying if she had to.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, thank you for such an amazing response to this fic! I completely fell in love with this universe for these two and maybe one day I'll explore it some more. But for now, thank you to everyone who's shared this on Tumblr or commented, left kudos, or bookmarked. You all are the best.
> 
> A general warning for this part: a lot of it is inspired and reminiscent of Season 3, Episode 12 “Demons.” While I tried to stay within the canon visuals, I know reading it can be different than just watching it. So content warning for physical fighting, references to torture, and pretty much Clarke getting thrown around a lot. There is also a brief mention of more character death. Please message me if you would like any more clarification or insight!

When the young, upcoming genius of the tech industry had picked Arkadia as the place she was going to build her headquarters, Becca Franco had been met with some resistance. The small, somewhat sleepy town wasn’t sure it equipped to take it all on. She promised though to focus on using the university as a resource and even built the building on the outskirts to keep the historic society from throwing a hissy fit at the clash of architecture or height restriction in the small downtown. And thus A.L.I.E., the leading company in artificial intelligence and genetic testing, emerged on the edges of town as a tall, white structure that was impressively modern. True to her word, Becca often took on students who were looking for internships and occasionally an out-of-state news network would come into town to learn more about what she was creating.

 

Though the history of the corporation’s arrival was interesting, and a success story for women in STEM, being an art major meant that Clarke had never had a reason to even go near it. She was also too busy on the other side of town being the Slayer, she who hangs out in cemeteries. A.L.I.E. would have remained a mystery to her long after she had graduated, a small blip of knowledge that would have made her only recognize the name of it in future articles.

 

But everything had changed and now she was standing outside of its doors.

 

She’d first run to Bellamy’s after leaving the library, a sinking confirmation that he was gone as she slipped his keys into her pocket and then raced to drive his Jeep to the corporation’s far off location. And now she stood outside the building she’d only ever heard snippets about. The October winds whipped around her, blowing her long blonde hair loose from its braid. She’d been purposefully drawn out miles from campus and away from where she was comfortable. Where her kills were like clockwork and her motions like sleepwalking. There would be no advantage here for her.

 

Letting out a long breath, Clarke grabbed her stake from its holster and made her way up the stone steps.

 

Just as promised by Raven, the security system was down and she was able to quietly open the door and slip into the building. If anyone checked the security cameras the next morning, they’d only see a loop of empty hallways.

 

The sterile atmosphere of the building was clinical, cold. White tile flooring shone brightly and unnaturally under the fluorescent lighting above, Clarke’s shadow doubled and stretched out in front of her. Echoes of going to the hospital to check in on her dad all of those years ago snuck into her mind. She wasn’t sure what the little girl back then would think of her now. She moved the lobby silently, her jaw tight as she kept the image of her old self at bay and instead kept Bellamy’s in focus, his eyes boring into her brain from the photo.

 

She only needed to pass a handful of offices before she found the entrance to the stairs. With her stake in hand, Raven’s instructions repeating in her mind to not try to take the elevator, Clarke began the descent.

 

The flickering lights in the stairwell made her blink a couple times, the silhouette of a vampire coming into view. He noticed her at the same time.

 

The man was hulkish even in death, his lumbering body too slow to go up against Clarke. His size must have been why he was considered for the job; too bad this was going to be child’s play for her.

 

Clarke moved quickly down the stairs before hoisting herself up by the wall and handrail. It took one quick kick to his chest, his snarl cut off, to shove him backwards. His weight then worked against him as he fell and Clarke used her arms to swing herself down multiple steps at a time. Landing nearly on top of him, she quickly jabbed the stake into his chest as he lay prone below her, exploding into a shower of dust before he even registered that she had landed atop of him.

 

One down.

 

Stake cautiously raised in front of her, Clarke continued to descend down the stairs. She passed the door to the first level basement, her mind mentally counting the steps as she hurried further down. Her blood was pounding in her ears, her breathing louder than normal. She didn’t greet another vampire until the door the second level basement appeared in view.

 

He had also been expecting her.

 

His face warped into vampiric anger and he hissed as he lunged at her, fangs gleaming in the flickering lights above.

 

Clarke ducked under his outreached grasp. His hands clutched at empty air as she jabbed at his side, sending him stumbling to his left.

 

He grunted, jumping back forward and swinging a punch at her. It clipped the side of her check, sending her spinning.

 

“Oh fuck off,” Clarke hissed, sweeping her leg out as he sprung at her again. She caught him off guard, though she didn’t completely send him to his back as she expected. Instead, she got a clear thrust to his knee and he crumpled to the ground.

 

Maybe not what she had pictured, but still worked.

 

He was inches from biting her ankles, his hands gripped around her ankle, when she dropped down to one knee to plunge her stake into his chest.

 

Catching her breath as he disintegrated, she yanked the door open.

 

_To her left and down the hall. To her left and down the hall._

 

The directions echoing in her mind, Clarke cautiously rounded the corner and peered out ahead.

 

Raven hadn’t mentioned any guards outside the door and the empty hallway that greeted her confirmed it. With no threat in sight, Clarke took off. She was so close to him. The silence of the building was filled with the squeak of the soles of her shoes on the floor and her frantic breathing as she silently counted doors. They hadn’t been able to pinpoint his exact room and she held her breath as she squinted, looking through the small glass window on the door of the first room she checked.

 

Nothing but darkness.

 

She moved onto the next one, already terrified but optimistic as she saw a dull glow coming from the window. This time she didn’t bother to check for sure.

 

A quick kick to the door was all she needed, her Slayer’s strength and rage busting it open in one motion. Her eyes took a brief moment to adjust to the dim lighting as she stepped into the room. It was clearly some type of lab, her eyes coursing over the small details and equipment around the room before landing in the center.

 

“Bell,” she breathed out, the nickname slipping from her lips unintentionally.

 

His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her. His black curls were matted down in some parts with blood, the rest wildly haloed around him. Bruises framed his cheekbones as evidence of the fight he had put up against his captors, though all of the sight of the scrapes and scratches paled against the knowledge that he was still very much alive.

 

She raced forward towards him, unable to help the glee that flowed through her. The thought that he would be dead once she arrived was something that had hovered in her mind. Ghastly images of his body being what greeted her as she showed up. She’d shoved it deep within her as she had driven there, not allowing herself to break without proof of it. Bellamy had always told her to not worry until she had to, and in this case he was right. As usual.

 

Kneeling in front of him, Clarke tentatively reached forward to gently touch his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into her hand before looking back up at her, the fear in his eyes obvious. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in the tenderness though so she quickly began to work on removing his restraints. First to go was the gag in his mouth and Bellamy sucked in air as he worked his jaw from being clasped for so long.

 

“Clarke,” he said, his voice hoarse and curling around her name with such emotion that her hands shook as she tried to undo the bindings on his arms. “You shouldn’t be here. He’ll kill you.”

 

“I had to come,” she hissed back, not able to look at him. He couldn’t see the tears that were collecting in the corner of her eyes. It was almost laughable to think of, as if she could have ever left him to die.

 

He shook his head. “You’re the Slayer, you have to continue on.”

 

She wrenched one of the knots apart and his left arm was nearly free. The amount of work done to keep Bellamy tied up was almost impressive and she choked up at the image of him fighting back so much that they’d had to go to these lengths.

 

“Don’t fucking say that,” she forced out, finally dragging her eyes back to his. “There will always be another Slayer. But there’s only you. Only you, Bellamy. I can’t ––”

 

She didn’t get to finish that sentence.

 

Bellamy’s eyes only had time to fly open in fear, the warning escaping his lips at the same time that Clarke felt a hand entangle itself in her hair and throw her back.

 

She collided into one of the lab tables, pain in her hip flaring up in what she knew was going to be a horrific bruise tomorrow. She groaned and righted herself, turning to face who she had known would be waiting for her.

 

Carl Emerson stood between her and Bellamy. His grin was nearly feral as he stared her down and she brought herself up to her full height, fists clenched by her side. Her stake was at Bellamy’s feet but she wasn’t thinking about that now. Not for the first time she was wishing that looks could kill so that Emerson would just crumble at her feet. But if that was the case, she’d be equally dead judging by the look on his own.

 

“Long time no see Clarke.” His tone was too exultant, jarring against the anger on his face.

 

Her lips pursed, Clarke remained silent.

 

She’d first met Emerson in the spring of her freshman year of college. There hadn’t been anything remarkable about that night. It was just supposed to be a regular patrol night. She and Bellamy had been wandering one of the graveyards, the oversized full moon hanging above them. She’d been more on guard for werewolves that night and he’d been distracted by a recent argument with his sister, so neither were focused on what was going on around them. She’d noticed them the first time around, the young boy and the father standing by a grave. The second loop around, they were still there.

 

Only now a violent vampire had decided to join the fray.

 

Clarke kept an approximate tally of the people who had died from her failings combined with the number of monsters she had killed. It wasn’t written down anywhere nor did she even have to put much thought into it. Each time a new one happened, the number would emblazon itself into her heart. The list had officially formed after prom night as she had fought to memorize the face of every classmate and teacher that had died, though it had been unconsciously almost two years in the making since Kane had first appeared to her.

 

So far, the majority of the casualties since then had been adults or college kids.

 

She hadn’t seen an actual child die before.

 

Leaping into action, she and Bellamy managed to defeat the vampire relatively quickly. Clarke’s chest felt shattered as she had checked the boy’s pulse only to find nothing. A quick grip on her shoulder though led her to look up at Bellamy’s warning.

 

They’d also been too late for the boy’s father.

 

Except instead of death, the man with the crew-cut hair style and army fatigues was slowly pulling himself off of the ground. His face had twisted into the misshapen folds and sharp angles of a vampire, his newly grown teeth gleaming in the moonlight. The first sight that had then greeted him was Clarke and Bellamy knelt by his son and what turned out to be his wife’s grave, the young boy cradled in Clarke’s arms. While he would grow to crave the taste of blood and lose his sense of humanity, the feeling of being a father who had lost his son too soon was something that no afterlife could erase. And as if Clarke wouldn’t blame herself enough for being too slow, she now had a vengeful vampire that blamed her.

 

From then on, Emerson had semi-haunted them throughout the rest of the semester. He’d make brief appearances in town, battling it out with Clarke only to disappear into the night before she could stake him. Her summer in Polis had left her jumpy, waiting for his arrival. Surely he would have followed her out here. Sleepless nights returned and she longed to be back on campus. Long-distance training was difficult and she realized how much more secure she had felt in Arkadia.

 

His thirst to toy with her had seemingly faded as the new school year had begun, but this set up meant that he had never really left her. Taking bits and pieces of her life to use against her, successfully entrapping the one person’s life that she held above all else.

 

Tonight would be their final showdown against each other. She’d make sure of that.

 

“It’s like a family reunion isn’t it?”

 

Clarke snarled at that.

 

“You’re going to pay for hurting him,” she snapped back, her emotions raw and brimming on the surface.

 

Emerson merely arched an eyebrow, taking a step closer towards Bellamy. Clarke instinctively moved almost in perfect unison with him, her eyes tracking his motions closely. The two circled each other, angry animals waiting to see who attacked first. As they finished rotating, Clarke stood between him and Bellamy. Exactly where she wanted to be.

 

“Clarke,” she heard him say warningly, but she didn’t turn around.

 

“It’s not him you want, it’s me. So you’re going to let him go, and then I’m going to kick your ass to Hell and back. Got it?”

 

The words came out calmer than she had expected.

 

“I don’t think so.” He kicked his lips, his tongue darting out as his hands clenched into fists as well.

 

Then he launched himself at her.

 

Clarke quickly dropped to the ground, sweeping up her stake and jumping back up to her feet.

 

He was expecting the stake in her right hand, his body angled to guard against that. Instead she threw the holy water from her bag at him with her left hand. The bottle shattered right on the cusp of his shoe and the floor, water soaking his leg and spraying around him. While not enough to kill, it would be enough to injure him and take him down a couple notches to make it easier to kill him.

 

But after an initial grimace from him, Clarke watched in horror as he merely shook his leg off as it would remove the wet fabric from his skin.

 

“Haven’t you heard? I’m immune now.” He almost barked with laughter at her reaction, jeering at her at he wiped away the water from his face.

 

Clarke stumbled backwards, the shock of his skin not immediately burning throwing her for a loop. He cut himself off mid laugh and lunged at her, though he stopped himself halfway and started laughing again. It had been enough to startle her and she had tripped backwards on one of the legs of a lab table, sending her sprawling onto her back and to the side of Bellamy. Emerson leaned over her again and while she didn’t dare take her eyes off of him, she could hear the thumping of Bellamy fighting to get loose in the chair.

 

“Stay the fuck away from her!” His voice was still raspy but the roar of anger was almost guttural.

 

Emerson didn’t listen to him.

 

Stepping wide and using his feet to block her movements, Emerson trapped Clarke on the floor. The paleness of his skin nearly glowed in the room’s soft light and she tried to press herself further down into the floor to get away from him. His eyes drifted down past her face and to her neck. Intrusive thoughts of what it would be like to just let him bite her, let her succumb to death, snuck into her mind. To finally feel fangs pierce her skin and feel one last time.

 

But his target wasn’t her neck for biting, at least not this time. Instead, one of his hands hovered above her before reaching down and yanking her necklace from her throat. The sharp pain of the clasp breaking made her gasp, but not as much at the realization that he was holding a cross in his hand and not reacting to it at all.

 

“A wonderful woman named Dr. Tsing has been working with me here,” he growled. “Becca has no idea what she does when she stays late in the lab. What she’s capable of doing and how she’s helped me. She’s made me special.”

 

Pushing himself to a standing position, Emerson then swayed a couple steps back so that both she and Bellamy could him. His stare was calculating and cold, sweeping between the two of them before landing back on Clarke. Both Slayer and Watcher were stunned into silence. As if to prove his words, he slowly opened up his hand and let her necklace fall to the ground. There was a faint indent of the cross on his palm, but it was fading as quickly as it had appeared. Not a burn or ounce of pain in sight.

 

Her boots squeaking in her urgency to move, Clarke jumped back up to her feet in one fluid motion, grabbing her stake as she did.

 

Emerson glared at her now, his joking demeanor slipping away from his face.

 

“So no tricks,” his voice was low as he slowly stalked towards her. “No shortcuts. You’re going to have to actually face your demons, Clarke. Head on.”

 

She let out a frustrated huff. Enough of this bullshit.

 

Running forward, Clarke took the chance at just attacking him directly on.

 

Emerson almost got out of the way, but not quite as she shoved into him. To balance himself, he grabbed onto her shoulders and tossing her to the side into a table. It screeched against the floor as her weight was thrown against it and pushed it back.

 

He was back on her before she could clear her thoughts, throwing a hook at the right side of her jaw. She nearly saw stars as his fist crunched against her.

 

Too caught up in himself though, Emerson never saw it coming when Clarke swung her head back and head butted him. He staggered backwards, hands pressed against his forehead before letting out a growl, saliva nearly dripping off of his fangs.

 

He didn’t get far enough though, Clarke hoisting herself off of the edge of the table and using the force of it to kick Emerson in the chest. He fell back again and she threw an uppercut to his jaw. She could feel the rage consuming her and Bellamy in the corner of her eye, still trapped, only fueled it.

 

She let out a yell without realizing it, running at him again.

 

This time he side-stepped her, grabbing onto her arm and placing his hand on her back to propel her into one of the cabinets. Glass vials shattered around her and her head slammed against the counter on her way down, her balance off-kilter and her head feeling woozy.

 

The last time they had fought, he hadn’t been nearly this strong and she felt dread begin to coil deep within her. It must have been another side effect of this testing he was going through.

 

She stumbled back to her feet, looking for the stake.

 

Emerson made a _tsk_ sound with his tongue, shaking his head as he looked down at his feet. She swore at the same time Bellamy did, watching as it was kicked far into the back of the lab.

 

Fuck.

 

Noticing that she was watching him, weaponless, a slow grin began to creep on to Emerson’s face. He stepped closer to Bellamy.

 

Clarke’s blood ran cold and she was vaguely aware of her yelling _something_ before she threw herself at Emerson.

 

She got one solid punch into his stomach before he grabbed her arm, spinning her around and trapping it behind her back. Stomping on his foot, Clarke was able to wiggle away a little bit and get loose. But then as she moved towards Bellamy, she felt the ground suddenly rush up towards her as Emerson’s leg caught hers. Her head hit the ground first and she blearily tried to pull herself up, Bellamy’s feet just out of her reach. She could hear his voice, oddly far away sounding, shouting her name.

 

She tried to reach out for him, her eyes finally beginning to focus again, when Emerson’s boots appeared into view from behind her before he kneeled around her.

 

Clarke grunted as one of his hands fisted into her hair, yanking her head up and his other hand wrapping around her neck. The pressure was light. He wasn’t ready to choke her out or break her neck yet but it was there, just enough to remind her the position she was in. How close to death she finally was.

 

They were facing Bellamy and it broke her to see how desperate he was. Her eyes pleaded with him to not do anything rash.

 

“What do you say Clarke? Which of you should I kill first, so that the other has to watch?”

 

His breath was hot against Clarke’s cheek and she whimpered, struggling against his tight grip on her as she stared at Bellamy. His muscles were straining at his remaining restraints, but she knew he was too drained from earlier torture to break himself free, even from the one that she had begun to loosen. He looked almost manic as he stared back at her, his eyes trained on her face in desperation.

 

“He has such a pretty face, it was a shame I had to knock it around some,” he continued with mock sympathy. “But I knew you’d come running if I did. Because I don’t want mercy Clarke. I want you to suffer.”

 

He paused, as if deciding something.

 

“I think that settles it. Your precious Watcher will die first so you can have another dead one on your hands. How much longer is the Council going to keep sentencing more Watchers to their grave by sending them to you? Huh?”

 

He jerked her head when she didn’t answer and she bit back a yelp of pain. It was terrifying to know how much he knew about her.

 

“Then you too will get to know what it’s like to watch the person you love die in front of you. I want you to suffer in the same way I’ve suffered.”

 

Bellamy seemed to be reignited with violent fervor to free himself. The chair rocked dangerously beneath him and a string of curse words spilled out of him, nearly indiscernible.  

 

“Young love,” he crooned softly, the hair on the back of Clarke’s neck curling up. “It’s a shame you two won’t ever get to experience it with each other. But that’s what you deserve. All you bring is death. You can’t even let us undead go on in peace, you have to do everything in your power as the Slayer to hurt every life you can.”

 

Having managed to scrape his chair a couple inches closer, Bellamy was viciously tugging his hands against the ties. A threat to kill Emerson was flung out, his voice like venom. Clarke wanted to plead with him to stop hurting himself for her, that she wasn’t worth it. But the pressure Emerson was putting on her throat was increasing as he continued to talk and she could feel his other hand moving higher up in her hair. So he wanted to end it by snapping her neck.

 

As her vision blurred, she felt beside her blindly. Her stake was nowhere to be found, the memory of him kicking it away hazy.

 

But her hands did brush against shards of glass.

 

The holy water from earlier.

 

Emerson was still talking, though almost to himself now. He was brainstorming how he should restrain Clarke while he killed Bellamy, occasionally shouting back at the young Watcher to stop shouting at him. The chaos was beginning to swirl in her head, until Emerson yanked her out of her crouched position so that her back was pressed against his chest. The lack of a heartbeat was too appropriate for this monster’s actions and she could almost feel his fangs against her head.

 

“Shall we do this?” His voice came out in a delighted hum, his grip tightening again on her throat.

 

“We shall,” she managed to whisper right before plunging a broken piece of glass into the side of his neck.

 

All at once the pressure on her dissipated, Emerson’s body disappearing in a cloud of dust behind her. The blood that ran down her hand was her own –– not that she could really feel the pain that was beginning to flare up in her palm where she had tightly grasped the broken piece of glass until the right moment arose. She barely waited for the ash of Emerson’s remains to settle, coughing as she hoisted herself up. Her limbs felt all out of place and she sucked in air as quickly as she could. Bellamy was only steps from her but she nearly collapsed as she stumbled towards him. Her hands quaked as she struggled to wrench the restraints off of him.

 

It took too much energy to finishing getting the first one off and she nearly fell into his arms as his now freed hand reached up to tangle itself in her hair. Neither of them felt like they could find the right words, instead taking that moment to just feel the warmth of the other being alive. Clarke was sure her tears were soaking Bellamy’s already blood-stained shirt as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck but she could feel his own tears in her hair and the concern melted away as they paused together, their chests breathing in sync.

 

* * *

 

 

Getting out of A.L.I.E. had been easier than when she had come in, if only just a bit slower.

 

Eventually after they had gathered themselves emotionally, Clarke had finished untying Bellamy and the two hobbled to his car. With a groan of pain, he’d acquiesced the role of driver and slumped back in the passenger’s seat while Clarke drove them back. Bellamy’s apartment complex, a small brick one just off campus, sat perfectly normally as if this was just another night. No one was outside to see the two of them limp in, Bellamy leaning on Clarke as he favored one of his legs and she let them into his place. A quick text to Raven that she had been successful in rescuing him, and then the two were able to settle in for the night.

 

The clean up process for the two of them was slow. Gentle wiping of blood off of skin, revealing flowering bruises and shallow cuts that stung with each swipe of the washcloth.

 

Clarke was first. She watched as his hand swallowed hers up, carefully pulling small pieces of glass still embedded in her palm and washing away the now dried blood. She tried to not think about how much she wanted to just scrub her hands until they were raw, reminding herself that this time the blood was a sign of life. That not just Bellamy, but that she too was alive and safe.

 

Once her hands were cleaned and Bellamy had gently inspected her neck, it was her turn to examine him. They sat in silence while her hands worked their way across his injuries.

 

Suddenly Clarke couldn’t hold it in anymore. As the extent of harm that had been done on Bellamy continued to be revealed, she couldn’t shake how all of this was her fault. Who she was, her very being, had brought this upon him.

 

“You didn’t deserve any of this. You’ve been saddled with me, forced to be by my side. And for what? To watch me fall apart every time I kill something. I’m not even really a human anymore,” her voice wobbled as she fought to maintain control of the blood-stained cloth in her hand. “I’m a monster Bellamy, you deserve so much more than me.”

 

Emerson’s voice was on repeat in her mind. _Young love_. He’d been stalking them and his reveal to her about Bellamy’s shared feelings for her was so far from how she would have wanted to learn that he loved her back. But her cruel reality made this the only way she’d find out and it all hurt too much. She felt her chest ache at the idea that she and Bellamy had been robbed of the possibility of a true moment between the two of them, allowed to express themselves in the ways that they wanted to.

 

“Hey, hey,” Bellamy’s voice softly broke through her rambling. Clarke swallowed her words, her hands stilling as he gently covered them with his own.

 

Her eyes still burning with unshed tears, she dragged her gaze back up to his.

 

The tenderness he held in his eyes made the tears finally leak down her face. Cautiously, he reached up and brushed one away, his gaze never straying from hers.

 

“You almost died because of me.”

 

Bellamy let out a small chuckle before it turned into a cough of pain. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help the somewhat helpless laugh that escaped her lips. It wasn’t funny, _none_ of this was funny but it was the most Bellamy-type thing to say in that moment. And it was so painfully true. And she supposed it would always be true.

 

“So is that it then? My destiny is to bring pain into those I love?” She asked in a small voice, her eyes flicking back to his.

 

“Do you love me?”

 

The question startled her, her eyes widening as she froze. Of course they’d be dancing around the topic all night, but to hear him say the word changed everything. He said it like he was cradling it, just like how he said her name.

 

She slowly began to nod, unable to even think about blinking let alone saying something. But he shook his head.

 

“I need to hear you say it, Clarke.”

 

The request was soft, almost pleading.

 

Clarke could have sworn that her heart was going to burst from her ribcage it was pounding so hard. Emerson had referred to challenging him on as taking on her demons. But as she sat in front of Bellamy, their hands intertwined, it was obvious that Emerson hadn’t been her demon. It was her aversion to vulnerability. Her own low self-worth that had crept up and taken over her, convincing her that she wasn’t capable of being human now that she was the Slayer. Emerson had represented that side of her, the one that was cloaked in death and hid in the shadows of the night. But Bellamy… she had always seen him as her guiding light. Not just that he himself was the light, but that he showed her what else she could be.

 

Or maybe, it was who she had always been and just needed to reopen herself back up to living again. She’d exiled real emotions from herself for so long that it was terrifying to allow herself to feel again.

 

She was her own demon, and she had already taken care of one thorn that plagued her tonight.

 

Allowing herself to be honest and open was next.

 

Her grip tightened just barely on his, but she could feel him give a reassuring squeeze back. It took so much control to not look away from him, but not only did she want to say it out loud for him, she wanted him to see it from her. The rawness of what it felt like for her to feel this much for him.

 

“I love you Bellamy, and I have for longer than I even know,” she finally said, her voice almost cracking at the admission. A weight lifted off of her as the words left her mouth and the way it felt to say it felt too amazing to only say it once. “I love you.”

 

His head ducked quickly down and he pressed his lips against hers. As fast as his movement was, the kiss itself was gentle. Instead of a questioning one, it hovered between expectant and cherishing. It was a moment they’d both been waiting for. Clarke’s eyes had shut on instinct the second they had made contact and she let her other sense take over. The roughness of lips, cracked from him gagged for so long but softening against hers. The smell of sweat mixed with the cologne she knew he wore every day, a slight hint of metallic from their blood.

 

Bellamy slowly pulled back, just barely. His forehead resting against hers, he let out a shuddering sigh.

 

“I love you. I love you so much, Clarke.”

 

They let themselves have a beat of silence, their breath ragged as they looked at each other before leaning into another kiss.

 

As they closed the gap between them, this one much fiercer than the one before it. There was an urgency to it, an acknowledgement of the danger that they had been in earlier and the close calls that nearly had prevented them from getting to this point. Clarke’s hands tangled into Bellamy’s hair at the back of his neck as he pulled her in closer towards him. Flashing of their near misses blended into the memories of his laughter when she’d crack a sarcastic joke. His patience with her and never ending trust.

 

And soon there was just him, the one in front of her. He completely enveloped her in body and mind and for the first time since prom, she felt like she was truly living in that moment.

 

Her body was on fire and she felt like she could feel her blood pulsating through her. She could feel Bellamy’s heartbeat against her own, rapid and _alive_. A triumphant smile found its way onto her and she felt him smile with her, their kisses growing less frantic and more in tune with each other.

 

Bellamy wasn’t the only thing worth living and fighting for anymore.

 

She also had herself.


End file.
